


By the Sword

by Akinai_Sere



Category: Final Fantasy XIV, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 21:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6346426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akinai_Sere/pseuds/Akinai_Sere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dragonsong War has been going on for centuries; any citizen of Ishgard could easily tell you this.</p>
<p>However... what if one day, a new threat surfaced?</p>
            </blockquote>





	By the Sword

“Look alive, men! Ishgard ill needs those who do not rise with the dawn.”

From all around the barracks, there were signs of movement as people stirred to life. Most of the veterans, namely the elder Elezen, quickly rose and stood at attention. Others, like myself, were not looking forward to leaving their warm beds and facing another day out in the snow and therefore slower to rise. One of the new recruits even chose to huddle further under his thick woolen blanket with a groan and cover his head with a pillow.

Unfortunately for the rookie (and for myself, since the young man's bunk was right next to mine,) Sergeant Raliant had seen his action. Brown eyes blazing, he walked over to the offender's bed to look down at the man. “And just what in the nine hells do you think you are doing? Think you're too good to rise and defend your country?”

The rookie uncovered his head with a pillow, his pointed ears quickly marking him as an Elezen. “Leave me be for another hour. I'm Lord Cyraneux...my uncle is lord of House Dzemael, I'm sure you have heard of him-”

In one swift movement, Raliant grabbed the woolen blanket and wrenched it from the young lord's form. “I don't care of you're the nephew of House Dzemael or the son of one of the Twelve themselves! You'll rise at the same time as everyone else, and scrub chamber pots for the next week for your insolence.”

As Raliant continued to berate Cyraneux, I opted to take this opportunity to steal a glance around the barracks. Most of the soldiers were watching the display with amusement, glad to see a spoiled youngling put in his place. In the military, a royal house gave you no special favors- only those who fought with all of their might and served Ishgard well were given respect. Granted, there did appear to be a bias placed on the other races...

“Any reason why you are still standing about, Hyur?” Raliant had already ended his lecture and was staring straight at me. “I'm not here for your amusement.” Seeing that a good quarter of the room was still present as well, he roared, “all of you, move out!”

“Yes, sir, “ I immediately replied, quickly heading towards the exit while attempting not to shiver. The barracks, like most of the keep, possessed a stone floor. Combined with the fact that last night's fire had been extinguished and both the room and floor were absolutely frigid as a result, one could almost relate to young Cyraneux's decision to throw caution into the wind and stay in bed. Trying to ignore the cold, I made my way to the showers. With any luck, there would be some hot water left.

 

~***~

 

“I swear, Alex, were you trying to piss off the sergeant?”

The mess hall, like always, was loud with the voices of multiple people deep in conversation. The large room contained five massive rosewood tables, each of them having a low bench of the same material to sit down on both sides. While there was the odd soldier, staff or citizen who would comfortably enjoy their meal off to the side, the majority were clustered into groups and were talking animatedly. 

“You act as if I was the young lord who decided to sleep the day away,” I stated in response, looking over at the speaker. Eion had joined the Ishgardian military at around the same time as me roughly five years ago, and we had been friends since near the beginning. The man had always been the easygoing type, and his loud laugh was easy to pinpoint anywhere in a room even though he was short for a Hyur. “Either way, he only said one thing to me.”

Eion groaned, ruffling his short raven-colored hair in annoyance. “That's not the point! Sergeant Raliant doesn't seem to like Hyur as is, so now he's going to be in a bad mood for the rest of the day. I swear, it's almost like he's trying to weed us out.”

“We have been enlisted here for a long time now.” I attempted to console Eion, knowing that we had the same conversation at least once a month. “So long as we bring glory to Ishgard and worship either the Wanderer or the Fury, Raliant has no reason to single any of us out. Besides, your skill with a bow is second to none on our team.”

Eion snorted in disbelief, but cracked a crooked grin. “You're one to talk! I may be able to shoot, but the way you handle a blade makes even the higher-ups look your way. Did you see the way Captain Trion was watching your every move in the sparring match last week? If you were a little taller, I'd bet they'd throw some fake ears on you and sell you as a short Elezen. Hell, you even wouldn't have to dye your hair.”

I mulled the thought over, giving a grin back in return. As a Hyur, I was medium height at best. While my hair was silver thanks to possible mixed ancestry down the line, my rounded ears would still mark me as a fullblooded member of my race. “They would have better luck selling me as a half-breed. No pureblood Elezen is this short!”

The Ishgardian military was composed mainly of Elezen, thanks to the country being the homeland for over half of the race. In recent years, thanks to the dragons awakening from their long slumber and attempting to invade the continent, the call for more able bodies allowed the other Enlightened Races to join as well. Nowadays the newcomers were Hyur, but every now and then an odd Miqo'te or Lalafell would join as well. The former, a race of humanoid feline people, were generally assigned to recon positions or those that required stealth. Lalafell, on the other hand, were often assigned to treasurer positions or as combat medics. Their extremely short stature meant that most would never be handed a weapon, but their innate business sense and quick grasp of magic helped them in their chosen field. As for the Hyur... well, thanks to being fairly decent in any area, they were often placed in any open spot that would take them.

“Still, watch yourself around Raliant,” Eion warned. “Even if Captain Trion has his eye on you, it means nothing if you're kicked out...and if that happens, how will you finally boast that you killed a dragon?” Seeing that I had not responded, he chuckled and slapped a hand on my shoulder. “Granted, you can join me in annoying some of the spoiled nobles later. They need to learn that a Hyur can easily knock them on their royal asses at a moment's notice.”

I shrugged in reply, opting to focus on my current meal for the moment. In this cold, roast mutton would not stay warm for long. If there was ever an option between a hot meal and listen to anyone's baseless worry, any smart man would choose the former in a heartbeat. 

 

~*~

 

 

“Round-ears, rise! I challenge you,” a brazen voice called from across the room.

I nearly missed my next swing on the wooden training dummy in front of me, staggering slightly as I corrected the blow at the last second. “Round-ears” was a crude Hyur slur, generally used by Elezen who wished to insult someone. Problem was, there were only three Hyur not assigned on patrol. One was a spellcaster, the other was myself, so that only left one other person. Sighing, I sheathed my sword and looked over towards the commotion.

Cyraneux was currently glaring at Eion, his flame-red hair in disarray as he pointed his blade at the Hyur. “I heard you laughing at me earlier, you and the rest of the round-ears. Get over here, and let someone from House Dzemael show you your place!”

Eion had not even rose from the polished wooden chair he was currently sitting in, opting to smirk at the his offender instead. “So, the mighty young lord challenges me? You'll have to look elsewhere, I'm an archer not a swordsman.” He tapped the elm longbow resting on his lap for proof, in case the Elezen tried to say that he was bluffing.

“Archer or not, you will accept my challenge.” Cyraneux waved off Eion's comment. “All soldiers are trained in the blade, be it dagger, sword, or greatsword.” 

“So you would have me fight you on a field of your choosing rather than an equal one?” Eion replied, faking hurt in his voice. “What happened to the 'glory and honor' you Elezen supposedly preach? Did scrubbing chamber pots put shit on more than just the rag you were using to-”

Eion's chair was slammed to the ground as Cyraneux grabbed the base of it, knocking the Hyur down as well. In mere moments, the lord had his blade at the man's neck. “Give me a reason to not slit your throat, you lowborn filth!”

“If you must must fight a Hyur, fight me instead,” I said, walking over to the two. “You'll be fighting a swordsman, and a Hyur at that. Fair is fair, no?”

Cyraneux said nothing in reply, but slowly moved his sword away from Eion- not enough for the man to safely rise, but enough to see that his attention was not fully on the Hyur. He appeared to be sizing me up, first looking at the sheathed sword on my left hip then at my hair, which I generally attempted to keep just below the ears. “You're a mixed-blood, must be with hair that silver. Where have I seen you before?”

“I was the one Raliant chewed out for standing around when you were assigned to latrine duty a few days ago,” I replied, taking a moment to lock eyes with Eion and give a slight nod. With any luck, he would know to get out of the way as soon as possible. “You wish to regain your honor? Fight me, and leave the archer alone.”

Cyraneux's emerald eyes lit up in recognition, and raised his sword to point the blade at me. Now with a full way out, Eion scrambled to get to safety. It was at that moment that I noticed that Cyraneux was rather pale for a Elezen- likely he had some mixed ancestry as well. “You'll regret refreshing my memory, round-ears. Now you'll see the fury from one of the Chosen race of the Twelve!”

Wasting no time, Cyraneux charged forward- and was sent reeling as he was knocked to the side by a large shield bearing a coat of arms- a crossed set of spears with a sole unicorn head in the center.

I could only stare in surprise. One moment I had readied a defensive stance upon seeing that Cyraneux had no desire to start the fight when both of us were ready, the next I was staring at the back of an Elezen wearing the fullplate cobalt armor reserved for those in captain rank. In addition, there was only one captain that displayed the unicorn coat of arms of House Fortemps.

“You sully the Twelve themselves by acting in such a fashion,” Captain Trion stated, lowering his shield. His helm was not present, revealing silver hair that stopped right at the neckline. “If you wish to duel, state the terms first along with the location and time. Never rush in head-first.”

“One should be ready for battle at any time!” Cyraneux stuttered in reply, obviously rattled from getting tossed to the side like a ragdoll. “Besides, the gods should have no qualms about their chosen acting in claiming their superiority.”

Trion kept his face passive, though something seemed to change in his gray eyes as he locked gazes with the young lord. “Your view is outdated by several centuries,” he softly replied. “If I hear you discriminate against another soldier or attack them on sight simply due to their race, I will have you discharged and appeal to have you disbarred from your House. Have I made myself clear?”

Whatever color was in Cyraneux's face, it drained away entirely upon hearing those words. “You can't...I mean my House will...” unable to stammer out a full reply, he got to his feet and dashed towards the sparring grounds exit.

As the young lord disappeared from sight, Trion shook his head and sighed. “It seems like the more noble the soldier is, the less likely they are to drop old beliefs...at least, those that paint their forefathers in a positive light.” He turned around to face me, his face growing serious once more. “Now then, as for you: were you planning on telling that young man that you clearly outrank him in skill, or were you going to disgrace him in front of everyone once more?”

This time it was my turn to be shamed. True, I was planning to quickly knock down Cyraneux and possibly humble him (if it was even possible.) Instead of trying to break up the fight and leave it at that, I had moved to defend Eion even though he had been clearly riling the Elezen. Still, there was no backing out. “The nobles clearly do not care for the other races, Captain. I was hoping to knock that belief out of him, I'll admit that readily.”

Trion raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised at the answer. “And yet here I am in front of you, a noble of House Fortemps. Will you try the same with me?”

“I- no, Captain,” I replied, shaking my head. Cross blades, with a Captain? Such a thing was unheard of. Cyraneux was likely not even out of his teens and probably spoiled his entire life. Trion, on the other hand, was a seasoned veteran.

“I'm afraid we'll have to do this the other way around then,” Trion said, unstrapping his sword and shield while retrieving a wooden set from the wall. “Alexander, was it? I challenge you to a duel, starting right now, until one of us yields.” Seeing my reluctance, his expression quickly hardened in anger. “Draw, unless you're afraid to face someone stronger than you!”

Hesitantly, I unstrapped my own sword and placed it next to Trion's, grabbing a wooden sword as well. I opted out on using a shield; my fighting style was based more on speed, and I never grew accustomed to having the bulky objects attached to my arm. I readied a defensive stance, watching Trion carefully. I had never seen the man fight due to not being a part of his regiment, but I heard he was an unstoppable force on the battlefield. The only chance of victory I had was to watch his fighting style, then head in when there was an opening.“I'm ready whenever you are.”

“A smart move, letting your opponent go first,” Trion replied, readying for battle as well. “In this situation though, you will regret it. Have at you!”

Lightning-fast, Trion lunged his sword towards my face, making me quickly stumble to the side in surprise. Even though his strike missed, he was able to recover and in no time it was all I could do to avoid getting struck by multiple swipes with his weapon. The captain was fast, even with that heavy shield burdening him. In fact, he was able to easily raise his shield in time to block every single time I was able to catch a breather and swing in his direction. Are all the veterans this good?

“Weakening already? I expected better from such a promising swordsman,” Trion called out, sounding not even out of breath. “Fight me with all your might, else you'll never last on the battlefield!”

“Just watch me,” I panted in reply, barely dodging another swing. “I'll take down one of those damned creatures, and stick their heads on a pike for all to see!” It was getting to harder to avoid his attacks, and Trion showed no signs of faltering anytime soon. My only chance was finding some way to break his focus.

“Bold words to come from someone who has never fought a dragon, or even one of their lesser thralls,” Trion said with a snort, favoring his shield to defend as he spoke. Still he walked forward, causing me to retreat further in order to avoid the Elezen's longer reach. “Tell me, do you plan to reach this achievement on blind pride alone like Cyraneux? Or do you think one of the Twelve themselves will fall down from the heavens to assist you?”

“I need not the gods' assistance!” I roared back in reply, “not when they have forsaken Ishgard, condemning us to this frozen hell and refusing to answer our prayers!”

Upon hearing those words, Trion's eyes widened in disbelief. His stance slackened, and his left side was left wide open as he lowered his shield due to inattention. “You dare forsake...”

I did not hear the rest of the captain's statement, nor did I care to. All I saw was that there was an opportunity to attack thanks to my outburst and I planned to take it. Not wasting a moment, I swapped to a two-handed stance and swung the wooden blade to Trion's now-exposed midsection.

What happened next was a blur. In a movement too fast for my eyes, Trion had blocked my swing in time and managed to grab onto the blade, twisting it out of my grasp and ramming me back. There was a loud thump as my head and back slammed into the stone wall behind me (was that why he had been making me back up before?) and I fell into the snow both winded and seeing stars. All I could do was blink dazedly as I came back to my senses, and soon after I felt a wooden blade placed upon my neck.

“Do you yield?” Trion asked coldly, his form shadowing above me. Even though it was hard to focus, it was easy to tell that the Elezen was furious.

“I yield,” I managed to say in reply, trying my best to not vomit. My head must have been hit harder than I originally thought. “I doubt I can even rise at the moment.”

“A wise choice,” the captain said, turning his back towards me. “I won't report your dereliction, you have nothing to fear there. Should you dare blaspheme against any of the Twelve once more, however, expect to be punished in a much harsher manner in the future.” With those words Trion grabbed his gear and left the sparring area, never looking back.

With the area deserted, I was finally free to mentally kick myself for my actions. No matter what Enlightened Race you hailed from, all held the gods in high regard. Known as the Twelve, while all of them were respected in some fashion, some were revered more than others depending on which nation you hailed from. Ishgard in particular worshiped Halone the Fury, the goddess of snow and war. To curse the gods and the wintry wasteland we had endured for three solid years now in particular was to practically spit on Halone herself.

“I suppose I should be glad that Trion isn't running to the archbishop right now,” I grumbled, trying to crawl to where my blade was resting. Ishgard was easily the strictest country about religion- cursing the gods could place the said person in the hands of an inquisitor. I couldn't afford such a thing to happen...not when I was so close to finally mastering the sword and fighting dragons on the battlefield. Finally managing to grab my weapon, I strapped it back to my side and attempted to slowly rise, pleased to see that most of the nausea had passed. My cured leather armor, on the other hand, was absolutely soaked thanks to my tumble in the snow. If that was the price to pay for heresy, I would gladly take it. Struggling to gather what little pride I had left, I made my way back to the barracks.

 

~*~

 

I had shared the entire event with Eion shortly after the fight with Captain Trion, and his reply was to look at me as if I had gone mad. “You committed heresy, in front of a captain? Alex, I knew you were a good fighter, but I didn't think you were suicidal as well!”

I had waved off his comment at the time, reminding him that I had also saved his tail from Cyraneux earlier because he decided to backtalk as well. That had silenced Eion, but he seemed to argue more whenever I attempted to squeeze in more practice time after sunset.

Time passed strangely here in Ishgard. While each day felt as if it dragged on for eternity, they all eventually bled into each other in a never-ending cycle of light, darkness, and cold. In a way, it was almost cathartic; it allowed one to focus on the matters of the day and have little worry about what had happened the day before and what would happen next. Because of this, the next three months were a blur as I trained nonstop to better myself. I would prove to Trion and the rest of Ishgard that one did not need the Twelve for strength, as well as earn their respect once and for all.

This day likely would have been as any other, if it wasn't for the fact that the main Hall had received an odd visitor.

It was Eion who had seen her first. We had both been assigned to scrubbing the tiled gray ceramic floors around the walkway, and I had been focusing on finishing the task as quickly as possible so I could squeeze more training time in. It had taken Eion throwing his rough cleaning brush at me to get my attention. “What the hell did you do that for?” I snapped back in return, rising from my knees to rise and hand him back the tool.

“Sssh, not so loud!” Eion replied, putting a finger to his lips before pointing towards the entrance. “Over there, isn't that a Lala? I thought only Hyur and Elezen could become dragoons!”

I frowned, following my friend's gaze. The large rosewood doors covering the entrance to the keep were open for the day, signaling that the Hall was open to visitors. Currently a small humanoid was walking quickly down the walkway, wearing a dark violet armor of an unknown metal adorned with a lighter purple trim around the edges. This armor, along with the dragon-shaped helm that covered the wearer's face save for the mouth, marked them as a dragoon- one of the senior ones at that. A formidable-looking mithral lance was strapped to their back, though thanks to the wielder's size it was hardly any larger than my sword.

On the opposite side of the Hall, facing the doors, there lay four rosewood chairs for each major House-each with their own insignia branded into the back, along with an associating banner behind each one- the red rose for House Haillenarte, a yellow bell for House Durendaire, the black unicorn for House Fortemps, and white rook for House Dzemael. The representatives were present for all four Houses today, and all appeared to be surprised to see this newcomer in their midst. 

“What is the meaning of this?” The representative for House Dzemael rose, his green eyes glaring at the figure. “An outsider comes to us, and wearing the sacred armor of the dragoons at that! Where are the guards, take this blasphemer away.”

“Peace, Peijue,” Trion- also the representative of House Fortemps- replied. He looked rattled to see this person as well, though his voice was calmer. “The dragoons guard their secrets well, and they would not allow an outsider to join their ranks without a good cause. Tell me, stranger, what brings you here?”

The dragoon removed their helm, revealing (as if there was any doubt to their short stature,) the large pointed ears and childish face of a Lalafell. Her metallic-gray hair was cropped short, stopping right below her ears and tinted with light blue highlights. Despite their normally-cheerful demeanor, this one looked dead serious. “I rode here from Dragonhead, my lords. The keep is being overrun by a horde of dragons we have never seen before, and we are hardly putting a dent in their forces. If this keeps up, they shall reach Ishgard by tomorrow morning.”

The Hall went dead silent, the representatives staring at the dragoon in shock. Dragonhead was a keep skilled at taking down dragons, as the name implied. It was also one of the last bastions of defense for Ishgard- if the mighty fortress fell, the rest of the country was in serious trouble. Nearby, I could hear Eion whispering a prayer to Halone out of impulse. “Could you describe some of the creatures, in the rare case should Dragonhead fall?” Trion asked, his face impassive.

“They...they were nothing like any of the other dragons I have seen in my time in the dragoons,” the Lalafell replied, looking scared as she attempted to recall the memory. “There were so many different ones. Some were close to my height and cobalt-blue in color, their form squat and possessing a red belly, with a fin like a shark on their head. Another one was massive and had sharp axe-like tusks adorning its face, its mustard-yellow body tearing through our men like paper. Yet another simply floated, it even had no wings or arms! It possessed three heads lined with a lilac mane, and it tore my youngest recruits into shreds...”

As the dragoon babbled on, I let my thoughts wander on to the matter at hand. Dragons, heading here of all places? I finally had a chance to prove myself! I was more confident with my skills and certain that they had improved since my spar with the captain a few months ago, and surely I would be of use when defending the keep. With that in mind, I dropped my brush and began to walk towards the conversing group. 

“Alex, what do you think you're- damn it,” Eion hissed, hiding behind one of the large stone pillars in the room to avoid being noticed. “You believe you can just walk in on a possible war meeting between the Houses?”

“Esteemed representatives of the Houses of Ishgard, I implore you,” I said, reaching them and giving a low bow to each in greeting, “if the situation is really so dire, then won't all of us be needed to defend this keep?”

The representatives reactions were mixed. Peijue from House Dzemael looked as if he had smelled something foul when I had approached, and Trion was clearly giving me a look saying boy, what in the world are you are planning. Finally, the lord from House Haillenarte cleared his throat and said, “The soldier has a point. We are the last hope should Dragonhead fall.”

“Our ballistae and tactics were useless on such foes,” the Lalafell replied. “They wielded attacks that made everything burn and disappear with an otherworldly flame, and some of them were too small to be trapped. We're used to fighting wyrms, not things that are smaller than a chinchilla!”

“We shall make sure to prepare for anything,” Trion stated, saluting the distressed Lalafell. “Thank you for your warning, dragoon, and may the Fury smile upon you.”

“And may the Wanderer guide all of our paths in the end, may it be in life or death.” the Lalafell saluted in reply, then turned around to leave the Hall.

 

~*~

 

“I never figured you to be a death-seeker, Alexander,” Trion had stated to me later. The representatives had cleared the Hall as soon as the dragoon had left for an emergency meeting, but the captain had discovered me later while I had been going over my current equipment for the fifth time. “These dragons have bested the branch of military whose sole purpose is to slay these creatures, and you act as if you can accomplish what they could not.”

“Are we supposed to sit around and wait for our deaths then, Captain?” I replied, testing the sharpness of my steel sword and giving a small smile when it easily sliced through an unripe apple. “I would consider doing nothing even more suicidal, and we'll never know until we try.”

“There is a fine line between courage and recklessness, and you are easily toeing it,” Trion said, staring down at me. “We will need every able blade, lance, bow, and stave when the time comes, but do not take any risks. There is more than your honor on the line, it's your life.”

“'Honor or death,' isn't that how the old saying goes? I thought you would live by it as well,” I said, giving a grin in reply. When I looked up, however, it was to see Trion's back facing me as the Elezen left the barracks. Guess he really was a hypocrite in the end. He goes on about honoring the Twelve and fighting for honor, but in a real fight he suddenly decides discretion is the better part of valor. I gave a snort and went to equip my studded leather armor, readying to place it over the normal black shirt and leggings I normally wore when off-duty.

“Do you believe it will really get that bad?” Cyraneux mumbled from his bed, strapping on his own gear. “The draconic brutes have only known to get past Dragonhead once, and this keep still shows scars from that battle long ago.”

“Afraid you might get blood on your pretty noble hands over there, Cyra?” Eion said with a grin, walking over to us both. He was already fully decked out in his archer leathers, which were dyed white to better match with the winter environment of Ishgard. A quiver full of black-feathered arrows was strapped to his back, along with his longbow. “What was it you said when you tried challenging me before and the captain stopped you? 'One should always be prepared for battle,' I think it was.” 

Cyraneux said nothing, opting to check a strap on his armor to see if it was fastened correctly. Seeing that the young lord was in no mood to argue, Eion directed his gaze to me with a frown. “I'm guessing you're going to try sneaking out of the keep. You know we're supposed to guard the citizens in case we get overrun.”

This time it was my turn to say nothing. Instead, I retrieved my whetstone from the chest at the foot of my bed, opting to see if I could hone my blade any sharper. Dragon scales were bound to be much tougher than apples, unripened or not.

 

~*~

 

“Man your stations, we're under attack!”

Everyone quickly rose from bed, each soldier readied for battle. While resting in full armor allowed for a less sound slumber, no one wished to waste time to ready their gear in case the dragoon's fears were found to be true. At the exit to the barracks, Sergeant Raliant was barking out orders to each soldier in turn; despite the Elezen's raven hair being in disarray, he looked fully in command of the situation. “Eion, they'll be needing you at the western tower. Cyraneux, you're to be part of rear guard in case any circle around the back. Rahal, your lance will be needed to guard the flank of those defending the main Hall. Wolfe- dammit all, man, you're not getting out of serving your country that easily! You're on citizen guard as well.”

Seeing that Raliant was distracted, I quickly grabbed my sword from the foot of the bed, slipping through the line and out of the barracks. Once fully out of the room, I forced myself to slow down and walk with purpose down the stone corridor that would lead me towards the main gates. Much as I wanted to bolt towards where all the action would be, running was likely to cause attention. One only had to look at my armor and fail to see the ranking showing those of sergeant rank and above to know that I was not stationed where I was supposed to head. While slower (and more irritating,) I had to avoid as little commotion as possible until I was on the battlefield.

Despite the walk feeling as if it had taken an eternity, the fighting had yet to begin by the time I arrived. The massive iron gates, reinforced with cobalt bars, was sealed shut with the upper ramparts manned with two score archers. For added defense, about a score of swordsmen were a safe distance away from the gates in case they were broke down. Along with the swordsmen lay about fifteen lancers, all of them eying the gates with worry. The part that worried me was the fact that we were sorely understaffed in medics- I saw only a few people wearing the long robes that marked the profession of a white mage, and a lone one among the ramparts to take care of the archers.

“There's no way they can do all of this on their own,” I muttered, gripping the handle of my sword in apprehension. There should have been more soldiers- where were they? I had not passed anyone else on the walk here.

As if someone had heard my thoughts, one of the lancers called out towards the front ramparts, “You there, archers! Are any of our men stationed outside of the gates? We're missing a lot of people.”

“They're not here,” Trion replied, stepping forward from the ranks of swordsmen. Seeing the captain, I moved to hide myself on the opposite side of the regiment. “The other lords sent half of the troops to Dragonhead to verify the dragoon's claims...none have returned.”

Noble Elezen, always unwilling to believe foreigners, I bitterly thought, snorting lightly at the lords' decision. As if the Lalafell had any reason to travel halfway across Coerthas to give a false warning! Now their chances looked even more grim; if the soldiers had not returned by now, they were likely either dead or missing.

The lancer swallowed hard at hearing the news, likely distressed to know that many of his friends were now either rotting in the snowfield somewhere or dragon food. As he opened his mouth to reply, there came a shout from the ramparts- the lone medic. “They're almost here! A sickening otherworldly aura appears to surround them all, I can sense it...I have no idea how many there are, Captain!”

“Prepare yourselves, men!” Trion shouted, drawing his blade. “Live or die, know that you fight this night to protect Ishgard!”

Suddenly, two of the white mages fell to the ground, holding their heads in distress. One of them, a Hyur female, groaned and looked nauseous from sensing the dragons' auras so close by. “They're above us and...below us? They're digging under the gate!”

“They can tunnel?” Trion responded, shocked. “The Lalafell said nothing about-”

At those words, the ground in the middle of the regiment collapsed, causing a few soldiers to fall into the hole and get swarmed immediately. From the pit rose a hodgepodge of dragons, each roaring in triumph. One of them, a squat blue creature with a crimson belly, grabbed one of the men and bit down with its large jaws. The Hyur's screams were soon silenced, and half of the man's body fell from the small glutton's mouth.

The archers fared no better. The skies were filled with winged versions as well, some that looked as if they shouldn't even be airborne. A pair of large dragons, their bright orange body making them as clear as day against the snow, were managing to fly with wings barely even a quarter the size of their bodies. Their comical appearance did little to ease my fears, or anyone else's for that matter- this duo was breathing a violet stream of fire towards the soldiers, causing them to fall and writhe in pain judging from the sound and screams from the ramparts.

Whatever I had imagined this battle to be, it was nothing like this. With flames burning everywhere and men getting eaten or sliced to ribbons all around me, all I could do was draw my sword and ready for battle. I did not have to wait long- one of the more insectoid dragons, its yellow body and green wings still caked with dirt, was now focusing its beady eyes in my direction. With a loud shriek, it flapped its large wings and gathered a large amount of sand and snow around it.

“Oh no you don't!” I cried out, aiming my sword towards the dragon's head. The creature was likely trying to cloak itself and blind attackers, then strike once its target could not see. Hearing me approach, it grumbled and sidestepped, aiming its front right foot towards me. Seeing no way to dodge, I redirected my sword towards the limb. Thankfully, the blow struck true...unfortunately, the blade was now stuck fast in the creature's foot.

The dragon roared in pain, attempting to remove my weapon as it moved the limb about. I gritted my teeth as I tried to hang on- if I lost my sword, it would be near impossible to retrieve in this hell. Eventually, I felt the blade loosen, and before it wriggled free I twisted the blade to widen the gash on the creature's foot. This made it shriek once more, and now its eyes were practically red in fury. The dragon opened its mouth once more- and the world appeared to shatter around me as I was knocked back from the sonic blow that blasted out from the creature's maw.

When I was finally able to see once more, I realized I was lying on a shattered crate, the splinters lodged painfully in my back. Wincing, I stood up and attempted to feel about to see if any were large enough to pull out. After managing to dislodge a few (though my back still felt as if a drake had stomped upon it,) I surveyed the current situation. Those violet flames that had assaulted the archers earlier were now everywhere, consuming everything they touched. The odd part was that the flames actually appeared to be truly devouring the object they were set upon- the person affected would scream in pain, write about, then vanish into thin air. Normal flames would at least leave bones, and dragonfire was supposed to leave ash- these left absolutely nothing. Could they be powered by voidsent, creatures that delivered others to the netherworld?

“Someone, try to purify those flames!” I cried out, having no need to remain hidden now that battle had been joined. “Are there any mages free, even a paladin that can do it?” I wouldn't have been surprised to discover that Trion was one of the holy knights due to his devotion to Halone, but the captain was nowhere in sight. I was only able to glimpse three of the white mages as well, but all were either staring lifelessly towards the night sky or dying from their injuries. 

What I did find was Eion.

The idiot, even though I half remembered that Raliant had assigned him to the west wall, had apparently decided to ignore orders as well and fight on the front lines. His form lay broken in the courtyard, likely fallen from the ramparts from the first rush. Beside him lay his longbow, shattered like its owner. Damned fool, why couldn't he have followed orders like one of us? I shuddered slightly, refusing to shed tears in such a dire moment as this. As I took a step back towards the fight and to possibly avenge my friend, the Hyur's body twitched and his eyes opened, focusing upon me.

“Alex,” Eion said, his voice cracking in pain. “Looks like we won't be able to show those stuffy Elezen that we're ten times better than them, huh?”

“You're one to talk, always calling yourself a coward,” I said, attempting to grin for my friend. It was clear to both of us that Eion would never be a soldier again even if by some miracle he survived this night- from the way his body was sprawled on the ground, his spine in the very least was shattered. “Couldn't let me take all the glory like always?”

“Hell no, not in a battle this big! Besides, we both have to brag to Cyra later-”

At that moment, a man-sized dragon that looked as if it had been thrown into multiple dye pots lumbered over towards us. While the majority of its body was blue, including the vestigial wings that stuck out of its back, it possessed a yellow belly along with bright red spikes jutting out from its arms and back. Its head, the same hue as the spikes, was currently pointed straight at Eion's form. Seeing the helpless soldier, the creature's mouth gave a cruel grin and it walked forward, clearly salivating.

Seeing just what the dragon had planned, I blindly charged forward to ram it off-course. Upon making contact, it was if I had just skidded across sandpaper; even through my armor, my entire body burned in pain. Crying out from the sudden shock, I rolled to the side just in time to avoid an angry stomp. “What the hell are you made out of?”

The dragon actually chuckled in reply, apparently glad to see my distress. Figuring I was down for the count, it continued to head towards a helpless Eion. Unfortunately, it had made a dire mistake- I was still holding my weapon. Once its back was turned I got to my feet and lunged towards the dragon's back, sinking my sword into the spot just between its two wings. With a pained roar it attempted to shake me off, and I winced as I made contact with its rough skin once more.

“Alex, just go! I'm done for, just...just let it eat me and head back in the keep!” Eion cried out in panic.

I didn't reply, focusing every mote of my being to keep hold of my sword as the dragon thrashed about. Just when I thought I was about to slip, something odd happened; the creature froze. By that, I didn't mean it stopped moving- it was literally frozen in time.

“Get your sword out and move, now!” a familiar voice cried out.

I managed to wrench free my blade and roll off the multicolored dragon, struggling to get back to my feet. Due to being beaten back and forth on its back, my entire body felt as if it had been rubbed raw. Looking towards the original speaker, I gave a wry grin and walked towards my savior. “Captain Trion! Why am I not surprised that you are a paladin?”

“A paladin with a few tricks up his sleeve, and only a few cantrips remaining,” Trion replied, clearly struggling to keep the Bind spell in place. “You need to get back to your post, the front gate is lost. Go, before my spell fades!”

“You need my assistance here more, and you know it,” I said, readying into an offensive stance and pointing my blade towards the bound creature. “Just let me help out here, if they get past us the recruits won't be able to make a difference anyways.”

“Stubborn Hyur,” Trion muttered. He readied his own sword, heading towards the dragon. “If you're truly so desperate to help, then strike now. It will start to move in any second.”

“Just leave it to me,” I said, walking alongside the captain. “Let's strike on opposite sides, then?”

The dragon, on the other hand, appeared to have other plans. Its movement resumed instantly, and it had eyes only for the person who had bound its form. Taking a deep breath, it suddenly let loose a stream of violet flames towards Captain Trion.

“Look out!” I cried out, slamming the captain out of the way. Though my plan had been to ram him with enough force to send us both out of harm's way, the Elezen's fullplate armor was a great heal heavier than estimated. While I had been able to move Trion, I felt a burning pain on my body a thousand times worse than rubbing against the rough skin of the dragon had caused. In mere moments, I was covered in the fire.

“Alex!” Trion cried out, reaching out his arms towards me as if he hoped to assist in dousing the flames.

I could only scream in reply- no matter how much I wanted to explain that the flames were likely voidsent in nature and he could likely purify them to cancel the effect, the words refused to leave my mouth. The only thing I was able to accomplish was to roll away to make certain that neither he or Eion would have the fire spread to them as well. After what felt like forever, the world finally went black.

 

~*~

 

**What is this? Such a determined spirit enters my realm, and a strong will to live as well!**

Pain, so much pain...I was unable to change anything in the end. My mind was replaying the scene over and over. The dragons swarming in from everywhere, the gates completely decimated, so many familiar faces dead or dying while I had been helpless in taking down a single one of the creatures.

**A sullen one to boot. A shame to have so much potential wasted.**

My mind finally decided to pause as I heard the voice that seemed to come from the inky blackness that surrounded me. Hesitantly, I metally called out, You...you can hear me? I am not dead?

**No, not yet determined one. My subjects were ordered to open a portal to your realm, but it seems as if they decided to raze everything first. Their fire was temporarily changed for that purpose, and so you have appeared instead...along with so many corpses.**

Now panicking, I replied, Please, let me live! I have so much left to do. If you are one of the Twelve like I believe you are, surely it is in your power.

**The Twelve?** The voice laughed coldly at this. **No, I do not belong to that pantheon of misbegotten deities. Instead, I come from a different world entirely. I could let you live there, if you wish...**

My sword is yours, I swore. Any task you will have me do, just name it.

**Very well, then I will send you there along with the rest of this...debris that my subjects have deigned to drop here in my prison. You will have to take a different form, due to your body being damaged beyond my repair. Perhaps...ha! This is so fitting it is almost poetic.**

At this point, I clearly had no idea what the voice was speaking of. What do you mean?

**You will take the shape of the possession that you so treasured, where even in your dying throes you refused to relinquish.**

It was at that moment that I noticed that there was still some feeling to my body. In my right hand, I could still feel the cured leather handle of my sword. As my eyes widened in realization, a shape began to take shape in the void, becoming halfway visible. 

A pair of shadowy wings formed rimmed in red, encircling my form in a form of embrace. The creature's head was wide on the edges, almost as if it possessed a set of horns or it was simply oblong. The only feature I saw were the eyes- the same blood-red as the tips of its wings.

**You shall take the life of all those who dare wield you, and in that way you shall serve me. After all, any life-force you manage to collect shall return straight to me.**

The creature laughed, and the entire realm shook.

 

~*~

 

Abandoned Ruins Journal 1, Day 5

 

We have been here almost a week already, and still we can find no sign of the prior locals that used to live here. Someone had to; with all pots, arrows, and weapons left about there are clear signs of civilization. The only major discovery we have found is the locals. While most ruins are normally home to multiple types of Pokemon, this particular one consists of nothing but Ghost-types. The massive amount of Shuppet and Phantump, along with several of my colleagues swearing that they hear screaming in some areas of the ruins late at night, are making some of them believe the place is cursed.

One of my associates, Mark, has found a blade still miraculously intact. In fact, the dark blue tassel that is tied to its pommel along with the dark brown sheath it is housed in look nearly brand new. While nothing else seems odd about it, Mark believes that he hears whispers from the blade sometimes. Something about a person named Alexander...

Granted, Mark has been not taking care of himself lately- he's practically skin and bones. I shall request for his transfer by the end of the week.

**Author's Note:**

> Dear merciful gods, this is an old one...
> 
> For the record, I originally posted this waaay back in November 2013 on a Pokemon forum (I go by Akinai on there and on a couple other sites.) This was obviously written before Heavensward was a thing, so some facts may be off.
> 
> Feel free to comment and whatnot and... yeah >.>


End file.
